


"David."

by Jen Hall (Greenlady)



Series: Twenty/Twenty [7]
Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Light Bondage, M/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 00:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenlady/pseuds/Jen%20Hall
Summary: Hutch asks Starsky to tie him up, because he's a panther.  Light bondage, because.  Not any kind of real B&D, don't worry.  Nothing against it, but it's not the sort of thing my characters do, okay?  :-) 'Cat People' by the late, great David Bowie -- and God, I still want to cry over his loss -- 'Cat People' is my favourite song of his.  I suggest playing it at the climax of this story. :-)The main action of this story happens somewhere around the time of  Hold On  and Hate Crime.





	"David."

‘Dave? How come you and Hutch call each other by your last names?’ someone or other asked just about once a month.

‘Because we met at the Police Academy, and that’s how we were introduced,’ Starsky would reply, with a tone of finality.

‘Okay.’ 

‘Okay,’ Starsky would give a little sigh. He imagined they asked Hutch the same question, if not as often, because, well, Hutch. Hutch’s Ice King persona had its uses. He himself was perfectly capable of looking and sounding ferocious, but in the case of the question of what names they called each other, surely that would be overkill.

Starsky knew people wondered if they called each other by their last names in bed. 

Of course they did, and it wasn’t a problem. It certainly didn’t lessen their intimacy. They also called each other Baby. Partner. Darling – though that was mostly Starsky’s name for Hutch. Mostly. Starsky called him ‘Beautiful’. Hutch called Starsky ‘My man.’ ‘Tough guy.’ Well, yeah. There was a theme there. Starsky did seem to concentrate on his lover’s looks and his sweetness. The latter quality in hopes of encouraging it to grow, probably. Hutch concentrated on Starsky’s qualities of masculinity and strength. He rarely mentioned his lover’s looks. 

Starsky had asked him about that once, when they first became lovers. Hutch had looked at him with an expression of utter mystification. ‘Of course I think you’re gorgeous, Starsky. I just figured you knew.’ He then changed the subject, quite firmly, and when Starsky could think again, he’d forgotten what his question had been. Hutch was tricky that way. 

But it made him think, when he had the time. Did he keep informing Hutch of his beauty because he realized somehow that Hutch didn’t know? How could he not know? 

The names. He had tried calling Hutch by his first name during sex. Once. It was like the iceberg that sank the Titanic had landed in their bed. It had taken a while to thaw Hutch out again. He would never get that half hour of his life back. Needless to say, he never attempted such a thing again. It was pointless to ask Hutch why his own name carried such baggage, but he figured it out later.

The men who had used him. The people who had attempted to alter his sexuality. The man who had raped him. All had called him Ken. He could tolerate the name from people in less intimate circumstances. But if a lover used that name – even Starsky – it felt like a threat? Even an attack? Starsky stopped worrying about it, because he loved calling him Hutch. The name felt like honey in his mouth, and Ken never would. 

Hutch could call him anything he wanted, in Starsky’s opinion, in or out of bed. But especially in bed, in that rich, sweet voice that ran down his spine like honey. Hutch called him Starsky. Or just Starsk. Like a gasp. Like that gasp he made when Starsky took his cock in his mouth for the first time. Sometimes he called him ‘darling’, but he used endearments rarely. Did he think they were meaningless? Maybe. 

They’d been lovers for about nine months before Starsky figured out the reasons for most of Hutch’s neuroses. He hadn’t had time before. They hadn’t had time to deal with such issues before. Hutch’s issues were mostly sexual, and didn’t arise in any other situations, so he passed as reasonably sane outside of bed. At least as sane as any of the other police cadets or officers they knew. Way saner than some of the more experienced detectives.

In bed he was mostly a sane, normal gay man, too. It took longer to satisfy him sexually than most of Starsky’s former sexual partners, but Starsky wasn’t about to complain. He was demanding as a lover -- but giving as well. Once Starsky set free his passions, he was unstoppable. Starsky wasn’t about to complain about that either. He loved performance vehicles of all kinds. His cars, and his men. Hutch was powerful and built for speed and endurance both. 

It took Starsky a while to realize that Hutch was giving him just about everything in bed, except for one thing. It didn’t trouble him, exactly. Many men didn’t like to be fucked themselves, or even to fuck other men. Some gay men never engaged in intercourse either way, pitcher or catcher, preferring blow jobs and hand jobs entirely. There were so many things they could do together in bed, and Starsky himself was endlessly inventive, and so all seemed well. If Hutch didn’t want to be fucked, Starsky would never suggest it.

Starsky had always considered that Hutch must have been spoiled as a kid, and that was how he acquired that frosty, patrician air of superiority. It didn’t bother him much, so he put up with it to avoid trouble between them at the Academy, but he had thought of maybe taking Hutch down a peg or two later on, when they were out on their own. When he learned the truth about the horrors of Hutch’s childhood, he had vowed to protect his lover’s self-protective mechanisms at the cost of his own happiness and private ego. Hutch’s little jokes and insults were worth putting up with, considering the rewards. 

When all the revelations came out about the abuse he had suffered, Starsky began to suspect that might have something to do with his reluctance to being on the receiving end of intercourse. Not necessarily, of course. But Hutch was a very giving lover in every other way, so it seemed a possibility.

Then one night, Hutch began to talk about his sexual experiences between the gay conversion camp, and his life in Bay City with Starsky. 

‘You have to understand how they operate, Darling,’ he said. He was being very affectionate that night, as if to make up for an explosion of temper earlier in the day. ‘It’s like a form of brainwashing, if rather crudely handled. The idea is to replace any feelings of desire for other men with disgust. And then to fill the gap with desire for women. The latter isn’t very successful, but the former can be. It took a long time to get all the disgust out of my head. Even now it’s not all gone. But you help.’

Starsky ran his hands over his lover’s naked body. Everywhere he could reach. Kissed his eyes, his throat, his hands, his lovely mouth. Over and over. ‘There,’ he said, when he stopped for breath. ‘Does that help?’

Starsky had quit speculating at that point how anyone could treat an innocent teenage boy that way. And Hutch had been innocent, despite his year as a hustler. He’d been forced into prostitution for survival. Before that, he’d never even kissed another man. His entire introduction to sex had been selling himself to buy food, and then being raped. The rage Starsky felt at that revelation was the most powerful and dangerous emotion he’d ever experienced in his life so far, even when he fought in war. He turned that rage into love and gave it all to Hutch. Something warned him that he now had almost no love left over to give to any new recipient, and that if he lost the object of his love – Hutch – his love would turn back into rage. Briefly he considered whether or not his situation was now wise and safe. Briefly. He’d made his choice. 

‘I was able to have sex with women. I don’t know how, because I felt almost no desire, and trying to even fantasize about sex with men hurt so much. But I managed. It helped that I was busy getting a degree at Harvard, you know? I worked hard on my courses. Got a letter jacket in soccer. I had sex with Vanessa enough times so she could report back to my parents that I was cured.’

‘And when that farce was over?’ asked Starsky.

Hutch was silent for a long time, probably rifling through his memories for something worth reporting. ‘Eventually…eventually I started thinking about what I was going to do. About sex, I mean. I wanted it so much, I ached all over at times. I’d have dreams about a lover…and I tried to find him. The first time I had sex with another man, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven, but it was only a one-night stand. And that hurt. But I kept trying. I’d almost given up hope when I found you.’

‘I wish I’d been there with you earlier. I wish….’

‘You’re here now,’ Hutch whispered. 

‘Yes. I’m here now.’ Starsky wound his legs around his lover’s waist and invited him back inside where it was safe and warm.

‘Starsk?’ Hutch asked later, as they lay wrapped together and he was contented enough for a while. ‘What is it like?’

‘What is what like, Babe?’

‘Having me inside you.’

‘Wonderful.’

‘Is it? Is it really?’

‘Have I ever given you reason to think otherwise?’

‘No, but….’

‘There is no but. Well, not that kind of but, anyway. It’s wonderful having you inside me.’

‘Because you love me?’

‘Yes, but because it’s wonderful having you inside me. Period.’

‘How does it feel?’

Starsky tried to think of a way to describe something so intimate, and couldn't, but Hutch went on talking anyway. 

‘All I remember is the pain and horror. I never let those other guys do that. They only got blow jobs and stuff like that. So…he told me that was what I was letting myself in for, for choosing to be a faggot,’ said Hutch. ‘For a long time I believed him.’

Yes, his first time was rape. God help me, thought Starsky. Can I be man enough to deal with all this if he wants me to….

‘Starsky? I want to try. I need to be as brave as you were. You’d never done it before, right? And you let me.’

Hutch had been wonderful. Tender and careful. Entering him slowly. Asking him constantly if it felt okay. When he was fully inside, he’d stayed quite still for some time, letting Starsky get used to him, before he began to move, as Starsky had been begging him to do for the last five minutes at least. For days after, memories of that loving act had come back to him at the most inopportune times. Nothing could have been further from the horrors of Hutch’s own experiences. Nothing in Hutch’s actions had led to Starsky having even a hint of the horror of Hutch’s own experiences. 

The generosity Hutch had shown still blew Starsky away, even if he realized he hadn’t been the first man Hutch had fucked. Now he was asking Starsky to return the favour, and how could he refuse? He didn’t really want to refuse. It was just a bit of a scary scenario. 

They tried the next night. All was going well until Starsky was ready to enter his lover. One moment he was poised between his thighs, about to penetrate him. The next moment he was flying off the bed. He was used to being tossed around rooms in Krav Maga classes and when practicing with Hutch, and so managed to actually land on his feet, laughing. 

Hutch was almost in tears. ‘Baby. Baby. I’m so sorry. What happened? I don’t…I don’t remember. Did I hurt you?’

‘Oh, darling. I’m fine. You toss me around like that all the time. I don’t know, but it was like I put you in reverse, or something. Wow! What a kick you have.’ He pulled his face straight as fast as he could, sensing that Hutch was too emotionally involved to find the situation amusing. 

They tried a couple more times, with the same result except that Starsky was prepared and got out of the way in time. That fact didn’t make Hutch feel any better. Finally, Starsky decided they’d tried all they could for the first time. 

Hutch was not pleased. When Hutch was not pleased about something, Starsky’s life became less than enjoyable. Something had to be done.

Starsky got home from work the next day. Hutch was already finished his shift and was waiting with dinner and a DVD. The DVD was of ‘Cat People’. The 1982 version, with Natassia Kinski, Malcolm McDowell, and John Heard. What the hell, thought Starsky?

‘What the hell, Hutch?’

‘Watch this, Babe,’ Hutch insisted, zipping ahead in the DVD to near the end. ‘See? Irena is filled with guilt that she killed a man, as a panther, and so became human again. She wants her lover to have sex with her and turn her back into a panther, but then she might kill him, so he ties her up, with her consent, makes love to her, and all is well. Except that she’s trapped in the form of a panther in a zoo, of course.’

‘Minor detail to be sure,’ said Starsky. 

‘Yeah, well. That’s what we need to do.’

‘What we…put you in a zoo? Oh, bondage? I’m not really into bondage. I mean…I tried out some kinky stuff years ago, but…Hutch, it’s just one sex act out of dozens. Why is it so important to you?’

Hutch sat back and looked at him, bewildered. ‘It’s important because it’s something they took away from me. From us. They did it deliberately, Starsk. It was like, they opened up my brain and poured all that garbage in, all that hatred, and I’m still trying to get rid of it. I know I’ve been asking a lot of you….’

‘No, you haven’t asked anything of me I wasn’t willing to do. I’d turn myself inside out for you, Baby. I didn’t want any hint of, of non-consensual stuff between us, that’s all.’

‘I consent, Starsky. I consent to everything, without question. Without reserve. You tie me up, and you do it. Take it all back. Even if I try to stop you, don’t stop. I might not even like it. I might not ever want to do it again, but I’m going to get it all back from them, okay?’ He leaned forward and his voice went all soft and warm, and dripping with honey. ‘Don’t you know how much I trust you?’

They gathered up belts, handcuffs, scarves. Rope. Their bed had a metal headboard, which was fortunate. By the time Starsky had Hutch tied up and handcuffed to the bed he was shaking like a leaf and in tears. ‘Baby, relax,’ said Hutch. ‘God, you’d never make a sadist or a dungeon master, would you?’

‘It’s not funny!’

‘No, it’s not. I’m sorry. But I told you, I’m perfectly willing. I gave you my consent already. And I’m not liking this vulnerability I’m feeling right now, so I don’t think I’ll ever ask you to tie me up like this again, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just get on with it, okay?’

‘Get on with it,’ Starsky muttered to himself. Easier said than done. But he followed Hutch’s instructions. Cued David Bowie singing the theme song to the movie – one of the hottest, sexiest theme songs ever, to be sure. It was set to repeat as often as necessary. He turned down the lights, until he could barely see. He’d have to find the important anatomical areas by memory. He approached their bed. Then a memory came to him of the night he’d finally broken down Hutch’s reserves to free his memories. He’d pictured them as panthers. Hutch as a golden panther, himself as a black panther hunting his mate in the jungle. He had a brief moment of amusement at his own over the top fantasy, before he was captured by it….

Hutch was the victim of an evil sorcerer, trapped in the body of a panther and he could not allow Starsky to mate with him, and so Starsky, who was his true mate, must tie him up first. David Bowie’s awesome voice, the pounding music, all took hold of Starsky’s senses. 

Feel my blood enraged  
It's just the fear of losing you  
Don't you know my name  
Well, you've been so long  
And I've been putting out fire  
With gasoline!

Oh, God, thought Starsky. You cannot lose me. You are in me, and I am in you. He pressed against Hutch’s tender entrance, and Hutch began to rage, struggling in his bonds. Swearing at Starsky, but not at Starsky. At the monsters who had enslaved him. Starsky pressed on, as his lover had commanded him to do. The warrior buried safely inside him had taken over. He had accepted his mission, and this was a battle he could not lose. 

Those who feel me near  
Pull the blinds and change their minds….

Still this pulsing night  
A plague I call a heartbeat  
Just be still with me  
You wouldn't believe what I've been through….  


See, these tears so blue  
An ageless heart that can never mend  
Tears can never dry  
A judgment made can never bend….  


He could feel Hutch getting closer to orgasm, and he had stopped struggling, so he grabbed the key to the handcuffs and unchained him from the headboard. Hutch flung his arms around Starsky’s neck and bent his head back, baring his throat in utter surrender. The wordless cry he gave at his climax was the most beautiful sound Starsky had ever heard. 

He freed Hutch from his bonds, and curled up beside him to enjoy the peace as their pulses slowed and breathing became easier.

‘Thanks, David,’ said Hutch.

‘Do you mean me, or David Bowie?’ Starsky asked.

‘I mean you,’ Hutch whispered. ‘You are mine, and you are so beautiful.’

Two triumphs in one night, thought Starsky, as they fell asleep, still entwined together.


End file.
